


Three's Company

by ArtemisRayne



Series: May Look at a King - A Newsies Felisian AU [27]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Felisian, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Disorder, Cat/Human Hybrids, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Existential Crisis, Felisian!Jack, Fluff, Guilt, Introspection, Jack Has Feelings, M/M, Missing Scene, Self-Acceptance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 19:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21002759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: Davey hunches inside his damp coat, biting his lip uncertainly as Jack eyes him. "You're home late, you okay?" The felisian sniffs in confusion. "And why do ya smell like wet dog?""Um, about that-" Davey starts, looking for the right words, but his coat chooses that exact moment to give out a pitiful littlemeow.





	1. Chapter 1

Licking his lips, Davey shuffles awkwardly in front of the apartment door, trying to keep his coat wrapped tight around himself while releasing the deadbolt. His hands are freezing, the cold winter weather sunk all the way to his bones. The snow melting in his hair sneaks in wet trails down beneath his collar. Of course, the cold is only a secondary concern as Davey slips through the apartment door. 

There's only one light on in the studio, a tower lamp illuminating the corner where the easel is set up. Jack's eyes are still focused on the painting, tongue between his teeth as he carefully details a section, but his ears are swiveled back toward Davey. At about the same time that Davey shuts the door behind him, the felisian straightens up with a nod. 

"Was startin' to worry you got lost," Jack teases playfully as he turns to clean his brush.

"Yeah, sorry, I got held up," Davey says nervously. He shifts, still cradling his coat against his side, and realizes he really didn't think this far. "And, uh, the snow." 

The felisian chuckles and wipes his paint-streaked hands on a rag. "No kiddin', you're soaked," Jack notes. He scrunches his nose. "And ya smell like wet dog. Did you stop to play at the pound on your way or somethin'?"

"No, um, about that-" Davey starts, but then his coat chooses that very moment to let out a pitiful little _meow_.

Jack goes stock-still, eyes wide and ears snapping forward attentively. They both just stand there for a second, Jack staring at Davey's torso while Davey stares at the felisian's shocked face, and then Jack flicks his tail sharply. "Dave, please tell me that weren't what it sounds like." 

"It's just for the night," Davey scrambles hastily, holding up his free hand in a placating gesture. "I just - I found it, and I couldn't just leave it there. It was _freezing_." 

"There's a cat inside your coat, innit?" Jack asks, his eyes drifting shut in some expression of weary exasperation.

Biting his lip apprehensively, Davey finally lifts the little bundle of sodden fur from where it's been tucked beneath his coat. The kitten can't be more than a couple months old, jet-black and fluffy and so small that it fits entirely into Davey's cupped palms. It has perked up a little during the trip home, warmed from being cradled against Davey's ribs. Shivering, the kitten blinks its yellow-green eyes and chirps a tragic squeak of a noise. 

"Someone had just dumped it behind the restaurant," Davey explains. "I found it when I went to throw out the trash, and the poor thing was just huddled there, sopping wet and covered in snow and _crying_. It looked like someone just tossed it out. I couldn't just leave it there to freeze to death." 

"Jesus, Dave," Jack says, shaking his head. "Seriously? One kitty ain't enough for ya?"

"I swear, it's just one night," Davey says, recognizing a faint concession in the felisian's features and the joke. "Just 'til we can find it a home, or I can go by the shelter after class tomorrow and see if they've got room. Just for the night, so it doesn't freeze, I promise." 

Jack drags a hand down his face - smearing the spot of green paint beside his eyebrow - and his ears relax toward their natural position. "One night," Jack agrees. He sighs and walks over to Davey, leaning in to nuzzle his cheek affectionately. "Youse shiverin', babe. Go have a shower, warm up. I'll make a bed for your furball."

"Thank you," Davey says, kissing Jack, and then he transfers the quivering kitten to Jack's hands. He can't help but stroke its tiny head once, smiling when the kitten pushes up against his fingertips. (It's a lot like the way Jack leans into Davey's touch when he wants attention, although Davey knows to keep that observation to himself.)

Davey lingers in the shower, absorbing the heat of the water. It took a little while to coax the freezing kitten to come out from under the dumpster, and his work uniform - slacks and a polo - isn't exactly designed for the sudden onset of winter weather that's hit the city. He stands beneath the spray of the shower until it finally starts to cool, and then he scrambles through washing so he can get out. 

When Davey emerges from the bathroom, towel slung around his hips, he finds Jack curled up in a ball on the bed. He has an arm around a little bundle of fabric in front of his chest, and he glances up to smirk at Davey. "How's it doing?" Davey asks. 

"I made a kitty burrito," Jack says, grinning mischievously, and he lifts up the fabric - a dishtowel, Davey realizes - to reveal that a tiny furry face is poking out of the end of the tube of fabric. Davey snorts, shaking his head. "S'a girl, by the way." In the process of tugging on his pajama pants, Davey looks over a shoulder questioningly. "The kitten. It's a girl." 

Davey smiles, coming over to sit on the edge of the mattress and pulling on socks. "I thought you were going to make a bed for her?" he says, nodding pointedly toward where the bundled-up kitten is tucked against Jack's chest. 

"Had to make sure she's warmed up first," Jack counters. "She's a baby. Lucky she ain't dead a'ready, how cold she was. Was just tryna get her dried off and warm 'fore bed." The felisian looks down at the kitten, which seems perfectly content to stay rolled up inside the towel. "Don't get used'ta this, furball," Jack says. "Once youse dried off, you goin' on the floor." 

The kitten blinks unconcernedly and huddles down further into her wrap. "I don't think she believes you," Davey points out in amusement. 

Jack snorts and reaches for Davey's hand. "You finally warmed up?" 

"Yeah, for the most part," Davey agrees. "I'll be better when I can cuddle up with my heated blanket." 

The felisian grins in satisfaction because they don't actually own one; the heated blanket in question is Jack, who naturally radiates heat like a furnace. "In that case, let's put the furball to bed," he says, peering into the towel to check on the drowsy kitten. 

They make a nest out of one of Jack's many throw blankets as well as a dry towel, setting it beside the bed, and Davey also fills one of their little plastic cereal bowls with water that he puts nearby. The kitten chirps and squeaks when they lay her down in the middle of the blankets, staring up at them balefully before she hunkers down into the warm nest.

Content that the kitten will be okay, Davey slips under the bedspread while Jack turns out the lights. The felisian coils himself around Davey's side the moment he's on the bed, nuzzling into Davey's ribs as he shares his body heat. "Jesus, your feet's still freezing," Jack protests, jerking his legs up so their feet aren't touching. 

"Hence why I'm wearing socks," Davey responds with a laugh. "My shoes got wet while I was trying to get the kitten out from behind the dumpster. Chucks are not waterproof." Jack snorts. Davey cards a hand into the felisian's hair, scratching lightly at the juncture between skull and ear. "Thanks for being so cool about this," he says. "I know me showing up with a stray cat in my pocket is kinda crazy." 

"Youse sorta got a thing for bringin' home orphan alley cats, dontcha?" Jack teases. 

Davey laughs. "You're not an orphan, Jack, and you'll break Medda's heart if she hears you say something like that," he points out. The felisian hums to concede the fact, his tail twitching where it's draped over Davey's knee. "I just - nobody deserves to be abandoned like that. And leaving that poor thing out in this weather, it's just-" 

"S'fine, Dave," Jack interjects, rubbing Davey's side where his hand is hanging. "I get it. She'd've died if ya left her there." He chuckles and nuzzles into Davey's chest. "Investigative Reporter Davey Jacobs, savin' the world one broken kitty at a time." 

Rolling his eyes, Davey flicks the tip of Jack's ear before returning to massaging that spot that always makes the felisian relax. "Well, maybe there needs to be someone who sees that just because someone's a little broken doesn't mean they aren't still perfect," he says fondly, tilting his head to press a kiss between Jack's ears. A low vibration of purr is the response he gets, and it makes Davey smile. 

"Ya know, it's a good thing ya brought home a cat and not a puppy though," the felisian adds. "If you'd come in here with some floppy little stray puppy, we'd be keeping it." 

Davey laughs; it's a conversation they've had before, how much Jack wants to get a dog. Unfortunately, the only dog they could possibly fit in their tiny apartment would be a chihuahua, which Jack claims "isn't a dog, it's just a yappy rat that shakes." Grinning, Davey closes his eyes and settles down into the pillow. "Someday," he says. "When we can afford to move into a bigger place, we'll get you a big derpy dog that drools as much as you do." 

"Somethin' you can take on your runs with ya," Jack chips in at the same time he jabs Davey for the drooling comment. "Like a German Shepherd or a Lab so it can keep up with ya. 'Cause I don't care how many times ya ask, I ain't gettin' up that early to go runnin' in the cold." Davey chuckles at the well-worn argument that's been going on since Davey took up daily jogs at the start of the school year.

"Maybe a retriever," Davey counters. "Those are good runners, but they also like to lay around and be with people. It could lay at your feet and keep you company while you're painting. And they're good with kids, so when you start your social working, you could take it to work. Like a service dog." 

Jack hums eagerly. "I like that plan. 'Kay, it's settled. Soon's we can get a bigger place, we get a retriever." His fingers start flexing idly against Davey's chest, the gentle kneading always a sign he's close to drifting off. Davey grins and lets himself fade off to the familiar feeling. 

* * *

When Davey steps into the apartment that afternoon so he can change for work, he's immediately greeted with, "Your furball is a monster." 

"Which furball?" Davey jokes, and the felisian shoots him a dry look. "What happened?" 

"She won't lemme alone," Jack protests. Sure enough, when Davey glances down, the tiny ball of black fur is sprawled out on the floor directly in front of where Jack's sitting on the sofa, gazing up at him. "Just 'cause I got a tail don't mean I'm your damn mama," he snaps at the kitten. She blinks up at him unconcernedly. The felisian snorts and turns his gaze back to Davey. "She been followin' me around all day since I got home. Keep trippin' over her 'cause she's always under my feet." 

Davey laughs. "She likes you, that's not a bad thing." 

The felisian humphs. "Did ya find a shelter that'll take her?" he asks. 

"Not yet," Davey says apologetically. "The ones around here are already full, guess they've been bringing in as many animals from the cold as they can, so they've got a lot right now. But they said if we give them some pictures, they can post it on their sites and see if someone wants her." He winces when he sees Jack's pout. "I know, I'm sorry. But she's a kitten, she'll go fast. Someone will want her." 

Jack scrunches his nose and glares down at the kitten. "Alright, ya get a couple more days," he tells her. "You're lucky Davey likes ya." 

Grinning, Davey crosses over to the sofa and ducks in to kiss Jack warmly. "Thank you. I'll check in with the shelters again tomorrow in between classes. But right now, I gotta get ready for work." 

Jack glances at the clock and groans. "Yeah, I got class soon." He stands up, having to step over the kitten, and when they both head for the dresser, the kitten bounds along behind them. "See what I mean?" Jack says, pointing to her indignantly when she bats at his ankle. "I got a fuckin' fluffy shadow." 

Davey can't bite back his laughter as he watches the kitten trail after Jack, her pale green eyes bright and curious. "At least we can tell she's feeling better," he points out. "Should probably feed her something before we go." 

"Already did," Jack says, tugging off his paint-splattered shirt in exchange for a clean one. "Tiny thing ate like half a can of tuna by herself, had to open another one just to have 'nough for my sandwich. And dontcha dare make any the cat and fish jokes goin' through my head right now." 

"How would I do that? They're going through _your_ head," Davey responds with a laugh, digging out a pair of black pants that aren't dirty from crouching in the sludgy snow behind the restaurant. 

"Because you're psychic and ya always know what I'm thinkin'. And you're kinda a li'l shit so I know you're gonna enjoy the hell outta makin' fun of me 'bout this whole thing," the felisian says, shooting a smirk over his shoulder to let Davey know it's just a tease.

"It is a little funny," Davey concedes. "You don't like cats, but cats sure seem to like you." The kitten in question is sitting in between Jack's feet, nuzzling his ankle. "I'll find a new home for her, I promise," Davey says, kissing Jack again. "Have fun in class." 

* * *

Fridays are Davey's long day at the restaurant, so it's late when he gets home. Jack is sitting on the bed, textbook and laptop in front of him, and the felisian looks up eagerly when Davey enters the apartment. "Hey babe," he greets, and then sniffs and glances at the plastic sack over Davey's arm hopefully. "Dinner?" 

"Hope you're hungry," Davey replies. "The kitchen made way too much chicken, we all got to take home quite a bit." One of the perks of the little family-owned restaurant where Davey waits tables is that they have no problems sending home any excess food from the end of the day with their employees. As part of the closing staff, Davey's brought home leftovers more than once in the last few months. 

"Awesome," Jack says enthusiastically. "Starvin'. Been workin' on this stupid paper since I got home, I need a break." 

Davey sets the bag on their little kitchen table and shrugs off his coat. "Why are you studying on the bed?" he asks curiously. Most of the time, Jack prefers to sprawl out across the floor so he's got room to wriggle around as he feels like it. The felisian is inherently unable to hold still for long. 

"'Cause the damn fluff won't lemme alone," Jack grouses, ears folding back in annoyance. "Kept climbin' all over my book, and she took off with my fuckin' pen. It's somewhere under the sofa now, I can't reach it, had to find another." 

It takes all of Davey's willpower not to laugh at the tremendous pout on the felisian's face. "Where is she, anyway?" 

Jack points down, and Davey sees a pair of green eyes peeking out from beneath the hem of the bedspread. "Distract her, she keeps attackin' my ankles when I get off the bed," Jack says. Davey does snort at this one, but he obligingly crouches to grab the kitten from beneath the bed, lifting her to his chest. "Demon fluff," Jack mutters in the kitten's direction as he stands. 

"C'mon, she doesn't even weigh five pounds, you can't be that afraid of her," Davey teases. 

"Ain't afraid, just don't like bein' scratched up," the felisian argues, tail lashing indignantly. "Those claws hurt."

The kitten rumbles a soft purr as she nuzzles beneath Davey's chin, trying to climb onto his shoulder to be closer. "Ah, you're a sweet thing," he says, petting her. She has thick, long fur, and on her tiny body, it makes her look like a pom-pom with a tail. 

"Don't get attached," Jack says, eyes narrowed. "This place only got room for one kitty, and I don't share, 'member?" 

Davey laughs, leaning in to kiss Jack affectionately. "Don't worry, you'll always be my favorite," he says. "I was just saying, she's cute. That'll make it easier to find a home for her, you know." 

Jack grunts and looks pacified, attention now on piling a plate with the chicken Davey brought home. He makes up a second plate for Davey, setting it at his spot with a grin. Davey returns the kitten to the floor and sinks into his chair, eagerly tucking in. "How's work?" Jack asks, and it's a pleasantly domestic thing as they trade stories about their day over dinner. 

Sharp little pinpricks at his calf make Davey look down, and the kitten is standing with her front paws on his leg, peering up at him imploringly. When she sees he's paying attention to her, she chirps a little noise. "Mooch," Davey says, rolling his eyes, but he picks out a piece of chicken that isn't spiced and offers it down to her. 

"You ain't s'posed to feed 'em people food," Jack says in exasperation. 

"You literally gave her tuna this morning," Davey argues, raising an eyebrow. "The same tuna you used for your lunch, I might add." 

"Gonna make her spoiled, doin' that," Jack says.

Davey shrugs. "And then she'll find a new home and be somebody else's high-maintenance furball," he points out. The felisian laughs, shaking his head. "You're really just jealous, aren't you? You don't like me spoiling anyone else but you." 

"Toldja, I don't like to share," Jack says with a shrug, a smile still lurking at the corners of his lips. "And _I'm_ your high-maintenance furball. Don't like my spot bein' taken." 

Giggling, Davey reaches over to squeeze Jack's hand. "I wouldn't dream of it," he says, sincerity beneath the joke. "You know that spot's always for you." Jack grins, satisfied, and his tail thumps against the edge of his chair. 

* * *

While Jack attempts to get more work done on his paper, Davey stretches out on the sofa with one of his reading assignments in one hand, and the kitten curled up on his stomach. It took a good twenty minutes of playing with her, teasing her with the string of his hoodie, before the kitten was finally worn out enough to settle down. Now she's half-asleep in a ball on his abdomen, and Davey pets her distractedly as he tries to focus on the obscenely boring book they're reading in his Lit class. 

The kitten rolls beneath his hand, stretching out to her full length, and Davey smirks. He sweeps his fingers from her nose all the way down to her tail, but then something makes him pause. Setting his book down, he holds her still with one hand while the other glides along the length of her tail. The uneven texture beneath the fur is something he recognizes, and Davey's heart drops. 

"Her tail's been broken," he says, glancing over to where Jack's lounging on the floor. The felisian looks up, ears swiveling forward. "I can feel bumps on it, here and here. It feels like it's been broken before." 

Jack frowns, and he crosses over to crouch beside the sofa, dragging his own hand down the length of the wriggling cat's tail. "Yeah, feels like it," he agrees, brow furrowing. The kitten makes a pitiful squeak, struggling to get away from the searching fingers. Jack sits back on his heels, and Davey strokes the kitten to calm her. "She's a stray, Dave, ain't that big a surprise. Who knows what kinda trouble she got into out there?" 

"I just - she's just a baby," Davey says, grimacing. He's never owned a cat before, but he did a little Googling between classes and, judging by her size, Davey figures she's between two and three months old. It hurts to think that something so small could have been injured like that already. 

"But she's okay," says Jack, and his expression is sympathetic. "You found her, and now she's safe, and you're gonna find her a good home where she can get spoiled and fat." 

Davey gives Jack a grateful smile. The kitten chirps and stretches her paws up, trying to pat Davey's face to get his attention again. "She doesn't meow," Davey notes curiously. "Or, not really. She just sorta squeaks a lot." 

"Cats learn it from otha cats," Jack says. "If she been on her own, ain't had a mama cat to learn it from." Davey raises an eyebrow at Jack, and the felisian smirks. "Yes, I know, I know a lot 'bout cats," he says wryly. "Used'ta learn everythin' I could when I was a kid so I could find every way I _ain't_ like a cat. Some the facts are still rattling 'round in here." 

It's another one of those sad glimpses into Jack's childhood, a heartbreaking peek into the lingering mental abuse that he struggles with to this day, and Davey's chest constricts. He also knows that Jack feels better sharing them if Davey doesn't make a big deal about it, so Davey licks his lips and grins. "I guess you had to find the material for all your bad jokes somewhere." 

"Whatever, I'm hysterical," Jack says, smirking. He ducks in to kiss Davey and then draws back with a yelp when the kitten swipes at his jaw. "Okay, no, fuzzball, interrupting my homework is one thing, but you're not interrupting this," the felisian says flatly, and he plucks her from Davey's hands and deposits her on the floor. Obstacle removed, Jack beams triumphantly and returns his focus to thoroughly kissing Davey. 

At least until a few minutes later when the kitten tries to scale up the side of his leg. 

* * *

Over the next two days, while Davey is corresponding with a local shelter to get the kitten listed on their site, they learn a few more quirks about their little house guest. 

That night, they discover the madness of the dreaded "kitten crazies." Davey's woken at two in the morning to the sound of the kitten tearing back and forth across the apartment like she's possessed. He can't see her in the dark, black on black, but he can hear her quiet chirps and the snag of her claws in the carpet as she careens around. 

And then, out of the blue, a thump followed by a pitiful squeak. 

Blearily, Davey grabs his phone off the bedside table and shines the flashlight across the apartment. The kitten is sitting beside the coffee table, shaking her head. "The fuck was that?" Jack mumbles sleepily. 

"I think she ran into the table," Davey admits in amusement. 

Jack snorts and burrows back down under the blankets. "That's what she gets for runnin' around like a crazy," he says, and he's asleep again in seconds. Rolling his eyes fondly, Davey flicks off the flashlight and goes back to sleep too. 

Except it's not the only time the kitten has a clumsy moment over the next couple days. Trying to jump up onto the coffee table, she ends up smacking head-first into the edge instead. Another sprinting spree results in her slamming into the wall. While lying on the arm of the sofa, she abruptly seems to lose her balance and falls off onto the floor. She does the same thing off the edge of the bed. 

"Must be somethin' wrong with her ears," Jack concludes. "That's why she keeps runnin' into things and fallin' off stuff." Davey nods in understanding, well aware of how much a cat's ears are tied into their ability to move around. It's one of those traits that felisians share, and Davey distinctly remembers his little brother getting an ear infection as a child that led to a lot of stumbling around and into stuff, or overbalancing randomly. "It don't seem to hurt her, so it ain't an infection or nothin'. Might'a just been born like that, or might'a been something happened on the street. Maybe got bonked on the head or somethin'." 

Observing her physically, Davey notes that the poor kitten is a little oddly shaped too. Her back legs are distinctly bowed, the paws rotated inward a bit, so it gives her a sort of waddle when she walks that he'd initially mistaken for typical kitten awkwardness. Her tail, when standing still, never completely straightens, so the breaks in it give the end a sort of permanent crook. 

Then there's the first time Davey sees her zone out. She suddenly just flops down and freezes, and she doesn't move or react to anything for a minute. Even when Davey pets her or talks to her, she just lays and stares. And then, just as quickly as it started, she blinks and squeaks and rolls into his touch with a pleased noise even though her eyes still look a bit unfocused. 

"I think the cold might've given her some kind of brain damage," Davey confesses to Jack that night with a sad frown. "It kinda looked like a petit-mal seizure or something." 

"Would make sense," the felisian agrees, reaching down to scratch the kitten's ears where she's perched on Davey's thigh. "She was half-froze when you found her. You got her thawed out, but she's li'l, that kinda thing could've messed her up pretty easy." 

"Poor baby," Davey says, petting the purring ball of fur. 

The kitten also turns out to be a klepto, prone to stealing things and running away to hide them beneath the sofa or the bed. It's always just stray little things - one of Jack's gummy erasers, a pen lid, a piece of Christmas candy, a paperclip from someone's homework - and she spirits them off into a pile under the furniture. Jack rolls his eyes and grumbles about it, but Davey thinks it's kind of funny, and he just sweeps the little collection out from under the bed at the end of the day to put everything back and give her a clean start for the next morning. 

* * *

Davey is just getting out of the shower the fourth morning of having the kitten when a startled yowl makes him jump, mainly because that wasn't a cat yowling. Towel around his waist, Davey lurches out of the bathroom to check. He finds Jack standing at his easel, tail bristled out to its fullest and ears folded back. 

"What happened?" Davey asks, confused. 

"Lucy attacked me," Jack says, pointing accusingly at the sofa. Beneath, Davey can see the kitten hiding, no doubt startled by the loud noise as much as Davey was. "She bit my tail!" 

Davey knows he should be focused on what Jack's upset about, but there's a single detail in the sentence that's caught his attention. "Lucy?" he echoes, a sly smile crossing his face. "You named her?" 

Although he looks a bit embarrassed at being caught out, there's something mischievous in Jack's grin. "Short for Lucifer," he explains. 

Laughing, Davey rolls his eyes. "Really? You can't call the kitten _Lucifer_. And she's not evil."

"She attacked my tail!" Jack repeats emphatically. "It hurt." 

"She's playing, drama queen," Davey says, shaking his head. Still, he crosses the apartment and holds out a hand, and the felisian obligingly sweeps his tail up to where Davey can take it. Davey carefully brushes his fingers through the fluffed fur, smoothing it down as she checks the white for any spots of red. "See, she didn't even break skin," Davey says. He ducks in to kiss the pout off Jack's face. 

"Still hurt," the felisian grumbles, but he's struggling to keep his frown in place. Davey also notices that Jack makes no motion to slide his tail out of Davey's grip, content to let Davey stroke the fur back down from its riled fluff. 

"I still can't believe you named her," says Davey, smirking. "You know they say the first step to getting attached is naming them." 

Jack huffs, shooting another glower at the tiny face peeking out from beneath the sofa. "Ain't gettin' attached," he says. "That's why she's Lucifer, 'cause she's the devil. No one gets attached to the devil." 

"You are not naming the kitten Lucifer," Davey says with a laugh. "Besides, think of what impression that'll give to the shelter if we tell them we're trying to find a new home for a cat named Lucifer." 

The felisian chuckles. "A clumsy klepto devil cat. Fuck, we're never gettin' rid of her, are we?" 

Davey grins and shrugs. "You're the one that named her, you tell me." 

Humphing again, Jack shoves Davey back in the direction of the bathroom. "Shaddup and get ready for work, smart ass. And we ain't keepin her." 

"Ah, you hear that, Lucy? I think he's warming up to you," Davey says teasingly over his shoulder. He gets hit in the back with one of Jack's charcoals before he can duck into the safety of the bathroom. 

* * *

Despite all of Jack's jokes and Davey's protests, the name Lucy sticks. Davey still refuses to acknowledge that it's short for Lucifer - although Jack likes to point it out, and he calls the kitten that every time she does something vaguely irritating. Of course, as the rest of the week slips by, Davey can tell that Jack's annoyance with the kitten is worn away, more a show now than actual feeling. 

Davey starts to suspect that when they find a new home for Lucy, Jack will actually miss the 'demon furball.' 

Jack comes home one day with a bag from the pet store, and Davey raises an eyebrow. "Shaddup," the felisian says before Davey can open his mouth. "We can just give all this shit to whoever adopts her. Just tired of her eatin' all my tuna." 

Which is how they wind up with a set of matching food and water bowls beside their dining table, and a large box of canned kitten food under the sink, and a litter box tucked in their bathroom, and a small collection of feather toys and a plastic ball with a bell inside it spread all over the floor. 

Nine days after the kitten's arrival in their house, Davey gets a call from the animal shelter just as he's getting home from his morning classes. "We've got a family that's interested in adopting your foster cat," the chipper shelter employee tells him. Davey refuses to acknowledge the pit that forms in his stomach at the news. "They want to meet her first to be sure. Could we schedule a time for you to bring her by so we can introduce them?" 

Davey pushes open the apartment door, and he pauses just inside. Jack is asleep on the couch, sprawled out across the cushions, and there's a little ball of jet-black fur curled up in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. And both of them are purring softly in their sleep. 

"Uh, actually, can I get back to you on that?" Davey asks, a smile stealing across his face at the sight. "We've gotten a little attached to her. I'm pretty sure we're gonna keep her instead, I just want to check with my boyfriend first. I'll call you back in just a bit." 

The shelter woman has a knowing tone to her voice as she assures him that's fine, and she'll be waiting for his call. The moment Davey hangs up the phone, he opens up his camera and takes a picture of the felisian and the kitten napping together. It's too precious an image not to preserve it. 

Davey sets aside his backpack and then crouches beside the sofa, reaching out so one hand can scratch behind Jack's ear while the other strokes Lucy's head. Jack hums contentedly and slowly blinks awake as he tilts into the contact. "Hey babe," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, and he smiles. The smile quickly turns to a wince when Lucy stretches, her tiny claws snagging in his shoulder. 

"So I got a call from the shelter," Davey starts, and there's no missing the way Jack's brow furrows ever-so-slightly, ears rotating back a little. "They found someone who might want to adopt Lucy." 

The felisian lifts a hand to stroke the kitten, who has settled back down beside his neck, and the way his hand curves over her is almost protective. "Oh, yeah? That's good," he says, but the enthusiasm in his voice doesn't make it all the way to his eyes. "Can get this devil fluff outta the way, let her go terrorize someone else." 

"Sure," Davey agrees. "So, you still wanna adopt her out?" 

"Course," Jack says quickly. He frowns, rubbing Lucy's neck, and she purrs loudly as she arches into the touch. "Do you? 'Cause I know youse got a bit attached to her."

Davey grins, recognizing the way Jack's deflecting. He's trying to make it seem like Davey's idea so he doesn't have to admit he's changed his mind. "I mean, she is cute," Davey says. "And we've already got all her stuff here. And this way there's someone here to pay attention to you when I'm not home, since you're so high-maintenance and all." Jack snuffs petulantly, and his tail thumps against the cushions when he flicks it. "And I think she'd miss you." 

The felisian eyes him, amber gaze narrowed thoughtfully. "You wanna keep her, dontcha?" he asks resignedly. 

"Don't you?" Davey counters pointedly. 

Jack scoops up the kitten and holds her above him, staring at her appraisingly. Lucy chirrups and tries to paw at his face, wriggling in a bid to escape to where she can be petted more. "Ugh, alright, looks like I'm stuck with you, fuzzball," the felisian says, dropping her onto his chest. Lucy immediately tucks herself beneath his chin, half-curled over his throat, and closes her eyes. "See whatcha done, she's tryna strangle me a'ready," Jack says, shooting a sideways glance at Davey as he nudges Lucy off the side of his neck so she can resume her place above his shoulder. 

Davey beams, leaning in to kiss Jack firmly. "Don't worry, I'll protect you from the five-pound devil," he teases. Jack chuckles and noses Davey's cheek affectionately. "Thank you." 

The felisian flaps a hand dismissively. "Whatever, go call the shelter 'fore I change my mind." 

By the time Davey gets off the phone with the shelter, letting the woman know that Lucy is going to stay with them, Jack and the kitten are both purring sleepily again. 

* * *

An hour later, Davey's phone is blowing up in response to the Instagram picture he posted of Jack and Lucy napping, the caption reading: _It's official, Jack and I are parents. Everyone meet Lucy Kelly-Jacobs. #catdads_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the presence of the orphaned stray kitten in their apartment gives Jack a bit of an existential crisis. 
> 
> Missing scene/coda to "Three's Company."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I caught the flu and am accomplishing nothing but lots of sleeping, so to make myself feel like I'm at least being a little productive - here, have a snippet I wrote last week. 
> 
> You can blame this short little piece's entire existence on Tuppeny, who indulges me and goes searching for so much depth even in places that I don't mean for there to be any, especially in this series. There's been a lot of smaller moments and details throughout the whole series based on her observations and theories, but this is one where the entire story was born from something in her review. So if you like it, go give her some love. (If you hate it, blame it on the fact I'm drugged to the gills on cold medicine.)

Jack hates cats.

Okay, well, maybe _hate_ is a strong word. But, at the least, he _dislikes_ cats. Always has, ever since he was a kid. Unfortunately, he's also self-aware enough to know it's not really the cats themselves he doesn't like.

"Go away," Jack says shortly. On the floor beside the bed, the tiny cottonball of black fur chirrups back at him plaintively. "No, youse stayin' down there. You a'ready stole one fuckin' pen, you ain't gettin' another."

The bed is the one place left where Jack can escape the demon fluff that's haunting their apartment. She's mostly mastered the ability to jump up onto the sofa, but with her poor sense of balance and spatial awareness, the mattress is still out of her reach for now. The kitten - who Jack has taken to calling 'Lucifer' inside his head - flops onto the carpet and gazes up at him sadly.

Jack can't fault Davey for bringing the hairball home in the first place; New York's in the middle of a December cold snap, and she's only a couple months old at best, so there's no way she'd have survived on her own. He can't be annoyed by that. Davey's got a good heart, and Jack loves that his boyfriend cares so much about things, big and small. So Jack can't be mad at Davey for bringing the kitten into their home.

That doesn't mean he has to like her.

Lucifer rolls onto her back and stretches, sprawling out to make herself comfortable, and Jack scowls. She's now laying precisely where he normally lays when doing homework, lazily stretched out in _his_ spot, and _that's_ why Jack hates her. Because looking down at the furry beast, he can see himself. 

"I'm not a cat," Jack snarls at the kitten, who just stares at him with vague curiosity.

It's something Jack's struggled with his whole life. Felisians are endlessly dogged with stupid stereotypes and assumptions. From a logical standpoint, Jack can even understand why. There's no escaping the fact that a felisian's features are distinctly cat-like, hence why they're called _felisians_ in the first place. So Jack gets it, even if it drives him up the wall.

Except it's more than that for Jack. Since he was a kid, he was conditioned to hate everything about himself that made him felisian. His father beat it into him - both figuratively and literally - from a young age that he was a freak of nature, and the only way that he'd ever survive was to make himself as human as possible. He was raised to push away everything that made him an abomination, and to ignore anything that wasn't normal. Jack's spent most of his life doing everything in his power to be _not_ felisian.

Davey helps. All of the lessons about self-acceptance that Medda started, and that his siblings helped to encourage, Davey reinforces. In the last year, Davey's made it clear that yes, maybe Jack isn't necessarily a normal human, but Davey still loves him, and loves him even more for those things about himself that Jack secretly hates. Since meeting Davey Jacobs, Jack's self-confidence has turned from a mask he wears to something more real. 

For the first time in his life, Jack almost feels comfortable letting habits and instincts he's always stifled reemerge. 

Lucifer squeaks indignantly, annoyed at being ignored, and she stands on her back legs to paw at the side of the bed. When Jack doesn't immediately reach to help her up, she sinks her claws into the blanket and tries to climb, only to fall onto the floor again. "Ha, that's what you get," Jack says to her. "Wouldja just lemme alone and go chase your tail or somethin'?" As he says it, Jack whips his tail to curl around his side, tucking it close to his body. 

Of all his felisian features, his tail is the one he's most self-conscious about. It's not just because it's always in the way so he can't sit down, or that it's such a good giveaway to what he's feeling, or that it's the piece of him that requires him to wear different clothes than normal people. A tail is a felisian's ultimate _weakness_. It's something that serves no good purpose - not like his ears for better hearing, or his eyes that see at night, or even the teeth that can be intimidating when he needs. It's a useless bit of fluff and so easily injured, and those injuries could cripple him. 

Jack combs his fingers through his fur, feeling the knobby spots beneath the skin. He knows from experience how easy it is to hurt a tail. He knows how agonizing it feels, and how much those little injuries destroy his ability to even function. It throws off his balance, makes moving a chore because the tiniest gestures send lightning bolts up his spinal cord, and the strain of forcing it still when it naturally wants to sway gives him tension headaches. 

Lucifer rumbles a purr from the floor and thumps her tail against the carpet. Her tail won't straighten all the way, a permanent crick to the end because it's been broken before and healed badly. Just another damn thing about her that Jack relates to, and he pulls his ears back to hiss at her. Startled, Lucifer darts underneath the bed to hide, and Jack instantly feels guilty. It's not her fault he's having an existential crisis. 

Sighing, Jack flops down onto the bed, homework forgotten. He thought he'd gotten over this. He's been doing so much better about not compartmentalizing everything that he does into 'human' and 'cat.' He'd started being able to just accept that he's some sort of bizarre halfway point between the two, a blend of human and cat that makes him just 'Jack the felisian.' 

Of course, seeing his father again for the first time in over a decade didn't help. Facing Francis Sullivan at his parole hearing was a thousand times harder than Jack expected. He thought he'd grown-up, gotten brave enough to face down the man who taught him every bad habit Jack's ever had, but all of that went out the window the moment Frank looked at him. 

In an instant, Jack was a scared little kid again, desperately trying to be something he wasn't to please his father, so he could finally stop being a disappointment. 

"Christ," Jack breathes, scrubbing his hands over his face. He needs to stop doing this. And he needs to stop taking out his insecurities on the poor homeless furball. 

Sliding down off the bed, Jack crouches down to peer underneath. Lucifer is huddled against the wall, wrapped up into a tiny ball. Her enormous green eyes gaze at him uncertainly over the brush of her tail. "C'mere, devil cat," Jack coaxes gently, extending his hand out beneath the bed. "M'sorry I growled at ya." The kitten doesn't move, still watching him. "Well, don't just stare at me. C'mere, Luce, I'm tryna be nice." 

Lucifer tentatively uncoils, slinking toward his hand. "That's it, Lucy, c'mere," Jack says, wiggling his fingers. The kitten's ears snap back, and she settles into a crouch. Jack realizes what's about to happen a second before it does, and he doesn't completely manage to jerk his hand back before she pounces on it. "Ow, what the hell?" he protests, checking his hand for scratches. 

Chirping, Lucifer bolts out from under the bed to nuzzle against his leg, eagerly seeking attention. "You're damn lucky Dave likes ya," Jack says to the cat before scooping her up. He climbs back up to lay on the bed, stretched out on his stomach, and sets the kitten down beside him. 

That, of course, only lasts about two seconds, before Lucifer promptly decides the best place for a nap is right on top of his textbook. 

"Are all cats this annoyin', or is it just you?" Jack says. The kitten gazes back, looking far too proud of herself as she obscures fifty percent of the text with her fluff. "You're a nuisance." That manages to tug a self-deprecating laugh out of Jack; it's the same thing Davey calls him all the time, especially when Jack tries to distract Davey from something. "Well, shit, must be a cat thing then." 

Jack scoffs and rests his chin on his folded arms. It's not like he can concentrate on studying right now anyway while his brain has apparently decided to go full-angst mode. "Hope you're happy," Jack grouses at the kitten. "Why am I even talkin' to you? You don't understand what I'm sayin'. I'm just talkin' aloud like a crazy person." 

Lucifer stretches out, limbs in every direction as she splays over the opened pages of the book. One of her front paws is only a few centimeters from his arm, and she flexes her paw rhythmically, tiny claws extending and retreating. Jack huffs and extracts one hand from beneath his chin to reach up and pet her. The kitten slumps languidly and starts purring like a chainsaw. "Glad one us is havin' a good time." 

Settling his cheek on his arm, Jack stares at the drowsy kitten as he scratches the back of her neck. "Ya think I'd care 'bout any this if it weren't for the ol' man?" he muses. "Betcha if I'd got 'way from him younger, I wouldn't hate ya so much. Crutchie don't hate cats. Well, Crutchie don't hate anything, really. But Spot don't hate cats, and he's an asshole. Bet he could look at ya and not see everythin' wrong with him." 

Jack sighs, and under his palm, Lucifer's purr softens blearily as her eyes drift shut. "Why do I even care? I know the old man's wrong, and there ain't somethin' wrong with me for havin' a tail. I'm not a cat, and I'm not a freak." The felisian exhales, trying to calm himself. "So what if I do things that aren't normal? I'm not normal, and that's fine. Right?" The kitten doesn't respond, half-asleep and kneading her paws aimlessly in the air. 

"Dunno why I waste my breath," Jack says, rolling his eyes. He really doesn't know why he's talking to the cat at all, other than it feels better to say things out loud than to just let them run around in circles inside his head. "I just - I mean, other felisians do things that are sorta cat, and that ain't bad. I don't hate them for doin' those things. So why do I hate me for it? That's sorta stupid, right?" 

The cat's purr dips in volume again as she stretches and yawns, her long pink tongue curling up at the end. When she relaxes, her green eyes blink at him, so open and content. Lucifer chirps that little squeaky sound she makes instead of meowing and butts her head against his palm to be pet more. "Youse lucky, ya know?" Jack informs her as he goes back to stroking her. "Havin' someone like Davey find ya and take care of ya. He ain't ever gonna make you feel like youse broken, even though you're _definitely_ broken, ya weirdo." 

Lucifer rolls onto her back and wraps her paws around his wrist, trapping his hand against her belly. Her back legs brace against his fingers, but instead of clawing him like Jack's expecting, the kitten cranes her head and licks the soft underside of his thumb. Jack chuckles at the feeling of her sandpaper tongue. "What're ya doin', crazy cat?" he asks curiously. Lucifer ignores him, continuing to lick him, interspersed with random little nips. "Seriously, you're so weird. But I guess you ain't so bad." 

Jack scritches his fingers against her belly as the kitten alternates between licking his hand and kicking at his fingers. It doesn't make sense, but somehow he feels calmer now than he has in days. Maybe there really is nothing wrong with being a little bit cat. Or maybe he's just consoling himself on the fact that, weird as he might be, at least he's not as weird a kitty as Lucifer. Either way, it feels like a pressure inside his chest is lifted. 

"Fuck it, I ain't gettin' any homework done anyway," Jack says resignedly. "C'mon, Luce, we're watchin' a movie." The felisian clambers off the bed, bundling the kitten along with him, and transfers over to the sofa. Lucifer prowls around in his lap while he picks a movie, but once he settles down to watch, the kitten tucks herself into his stomach and curls up. 

That's how Davey finds them when he gets home from class a while later, Jack laying on his side on the sofa with Lucifer sprawled in the curve of his torso. "Don't say nothin'," Jack warns when he sees the teasing grin that dances across Davey's lips. The taller boy chuckles and holds up a hand in surrender. "How was class?" 

"Horrible," Davey groans. He drops to sit on the floor in front of the sofa, leaning back against the cushions. Jack can tell what he's silently asking for, so he reaches out to touch the back of Davey's neck soothingly. When he feels how tight the muscles are there, the felisian starts to knead his thumb into the tense lines. Davey makes a pleased noise and arches his neck in search of more. 

And that simple little movement sends a huff of dazed laughter from Jack's lips. It's the same way Jack tends to lean into Davey's touch or the same way that Lucifer pushes up into a palm when being petted. Davey's not a felisian or a cat, but he still has that same instinct to seek out contact that he wants. 

So, maybe that line between what's human and what's cat is a little less concrete than Jack's always thought it was. 

"What?" Davey asks, bemused as he glances over his shoulder at Jack's breathless laugh. 

"Hmm? Oh, nothing," Jack says, shaking his head. He scratches his fingers through the hair at the back of Davey's skull before going back to rubbing the tense muscles. His boyfriend hums and relaxes into his touch. "Why was class horrible?" he prompts. 

Davey launches into explaining about his lecture and how useless the professor is and that the reviews are doing nothing to actually help prepare them for the final exam. The whole time, Jack keeps working a thumb into the lines of tension on the back of the younger boy's neck. After a minute, the felisian sweeps his tail up over his hip, the fluffed end tapping against Davey's shoulder. His boyfriend beams delightedly and strokes the thicker fur with his fingers, as ecstatic as ever when he's allowed to touch the protected limb. 

(Jack will never admit it to anyone except Davey, but he honestly loves the feel of Davey's long, steady fingers in his fur as much as Davey seems to love it.) 

Lucifer chirrups and wriggles forward, half-draping herself over Davey's shoulder in search of attention. Jack can't even be annoyed by the interruption because the grin that brightens Davey's face as she cradles the demon fluff to his chest is pure happiness. With Jack's tail on his shoulder and a purring furball in his arms, Davey starts to unwind. 

"Good thing you ain't allergic to fur," Jack teases, ducking forward to kiss the side of Davey's neck. Lucifer bats at his ear, and Jack folds them back, baring his teeth pointedly. "Keep this up, babe, and youse gonna turn into a crazy ol' cat lady." 

"Shut up," Davey shoots back playfully. "You know, I'm starting to like the kitten more than you; she doesn't talk back as much." 

The felisian snorts. "Maybe not to you. She wouldn't shaddup earlier. And she stole my fuckin' pen again, got no idea where she took this one." 

"You're such a crazy puffball," Davey says to the kitten, laughing. She just purrs up at him in satisfaction. Davey chuffs and shakes his head, glancing at Jack over his shoulder. "Sorry, I know she bothers you. The shelter said they'll have her info posted in the morning, so hopefully we can find her a home soon." 

"Ha, ya hear that," Jack says, glaring playfully at the kitten. "Soon, youse gonna have to steal someone else's stuff." 

Davey giggles with a look of fond exasperation. As Jack goes back to massaging at the knots in Davey's neck, the kitten crawls up his front to butt her head under his chin, nuzzling for attention. And Jack can tell by the warm smile on Davey's face that he's already attached to the demon furball. When they find a home for Lucifer, it's gonna break Davey's heart. 

Jack watches the way Davey cuddles the kitten, teasing her with the string of his hoodie, and the felisian thinks that if it comes down to it, maybe having her around wouldn't be too terrible. He still doesn't love cats, but he doesn't hate them either. There's worse things in the world than a cat.

Then Lucifer swats at Jack's tail where its draped over Davey's shoulder, and the felisian hisses. "Yeah, no, you gotta go, devil puff."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short little update that is entirely Tuppeny's fault. Thank you, love!

After being together this long, Jack feels like he's got a pretty good grasp on understanding his boyfriend's anxiety disorder. Davey is a worrier, and he has a bad habit of spiraling when he starts to get stressed. It'll be little things that build and build, tiny, unrelated annoyances and stressors that compound into a nervous breakdown. 

For the most part, Davey is reasonably good at handling it, but it always gets worse around school exams. Davey gets worked up with studying, a perfectionist feeling pressured to ace everything, and it makes it easier for other things to affect him. They have a strategy in place for when that happens, so Jack knows what he needs to do to make Davey feel safe and calm him back down. Jack made him sit down and work out a plan after the first really bad panic attack Davey had in the spring. 

(Jack's also been trying to convince Davey to start going to one of the campus counselors, but so far he's been stubbornly stonewalled in that argument.) 

So with finals for the fall semester coming up, Jack's been half-expecting the resurgence of his boyfriend's anxiety problems. The writing is on the wall in the late nights studying, and shorter temper, and the fact that Davey gets even worse about remembering to eat than Jack does. So while it hurts Jack to see it, he's not all that surprised when it actually happens. 

It starts with a string of texts from his best friend Specs just as Jack's leaving his morning Human Behaviors course. 

_>Specs: u might wanna check on dave _

_>Specs: dunno what I did but he took off when we were talkin earlier and he looked upset _

_>Specs: and hes not answering my texts _

Immediately concerned, Jack opens his contacts and jabs Davey's number to call him even as he takes off running. It's no shock when the call rings all the way through to voicemail instead. Jack huffs and hits the speech-to-text button without breaking his stride. "Text me when ya get this, babe." 

It's times like this that Jack really misses living so close to campus. He's used to taking public transit; he's lived in New York his whole life, where buses and subways are the primary forms of getting around. The amount of time it takes to get from campus to their apartment, though, is really frustrating when he's in a hurry. Jack bounces on his toes restlessly in the train compartment, tail lashing in agitation. 

Jack is a ball of nerves by the time he makes it back to the apartment. The door is already unlocked, and Jack grimaces; that means Davey's worked up and distracted enough he forgot to lock it behind him. That's never a good sign. Bracing himself, the felisian lets himself in and finds Davey pacing the apartment with red-rimmed eyes. 

"Davey, babe," Jack says softly, being careful not to startle him. Davey tends to get up in his head when this happens, and he doesn't always notice what's going on around him. Sure enough, Davey flinches at Jack's voice. Davey comes to an abrupt stop and turns to face Jack, eyes watering, and he looks so heartbreakingly lost that the felisian cringes. 

"I'm so sorry, Jacky," Davey gasps out. The words hit Jack like a physical blow; it's one of those conversation openers that's a cliche like 'we need to talk,' the sort that always precedes a painful conversation. Jack determinedly tries not to think about how often that sort of thing happens, most of the time followed by a confession of cheating, in the chick-flicks he pretends he doesn't watch. Davey takes a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, I'm such a bad boyfriend, I'm so sorry." 

Jack forces himself to keep his expression neutral, and he holds ups his hands placatingly. Questions can wait until Davey stops hyperventilating. "Whoa, hey, easy, babe," Jack says. "S'okay, we'll work it out. But you gotta breathe first."

"How're you not mad at me?" Davey asks, half-hysterical. "I've been so _awful_ to you." 

"Hey, I ain't mad, okay? Promise. I ain't mad at ya," Jack says reassuringly. "So can you focus on breathin'? Youse givin' yourself a panic attack, and ya don't want that, remember?" Davey licks his lips and nods, and Jack exhales in relief. At least Davey's not so far up into the panic that he can't recognize what's happening. That should make this easier. "A'right, can ya do that? Promise, I'll still be here when ya feel better, just take care'a you." 

Davey's chin quivers, but he wraps his arms around his ribs and squeezes his eyes shut. Jack can hear him talking to himself between inhales, his usual technique of listing off everything he can perceive around him to center himself. It takes Davey several minutes before his breathing slows down to a normal pace. 

The felisian fidgets the entire time, tail lashing. He hates this feeling of uselessness he always gets when this happens. There's nothing he can do for Davey until he can get back to a semi-stable place where contact and conversation won't trigger him. All Jack can do - all he can ever do in these situations - is _wait_.

Fisting his hands in the sides of his shirt, Davey blinks red-rimmed eyes open and exhales. "Dave?" Jack asks tentatively. 

"I'm okay," Davey says, and his voice only trembles a little. 

"Can I touch ya now?" Jack asks, opening his arms. Davey nods and crosses the room, tucking himself into the felisian's embrace. Jack hugs Davey against his chest, rubbing one hand along his spine and the other cupping the back of his skull. "See, youse okay now," Jack says softly, vibrating his ribs in a silent purr. He drapes his tail around Davey's calf the way he knows Davey secretly likes. "I gotcha. Just settle yourself, and then we can talk, a'right?" 

Davey nods into Jack's shoulder, uncurling his hands from his shirt and slipping his arms around Jack. "Thank you," he murmurs. "I didn't mean to-" 

"Shh, I know, s'okay," Jack says. "C'mon, let's sit down, and you can tell me what's up, okay? Specs said you left on him pretty quick. What happened?" 

"I'm sorry," Davey whispers, but he lets Jack steer him over to the sofa, and they sit down. Davey immediately pulls his legs up to his chest the way he does when he's upset, instinctively making himself as small as he can. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean - and I just got all - but I've been so _horrible_ and I can't-" 

"Hey, hey, slow down," Jack cuts in, folding Davey's hands in both of his. The felisian's stomach is tied up in knots, terrified of the answers, but it's time to bite the bullet. "You keep sayin' I should be mad. What're you talkin' about?" 

Davey's expression crumbles sadly. "Lucy." 

Jack's ears snap forward in surprise, thrown off by the nonsequitur, before alarm sets in. "Is she okay?" he asks frantically. A small chirrup catches Jack's attention, and he glances over to see a pair of big yellow-green eyes peering out from under their bed, drawn by the sound of her name. Well, at least that's that mystery solved. "Lucy's fine, babe." 

"But I didn't even think about _you_," Davey says emphatically. "I mean, everything you've been going through, and then I just bring in this cat without even thinking about your feelings, and I'm so sorry. I'm so _selfish_." 

Comprehension begins to settle over him, and Jack licks his lips. "Oh, hey, it's okay, babe," he says. "You saved her life. She would'a died if you left her out there. I get it. And then we just sorta got attached." He reaches up to brush Davey's fringe back. "What brought this on?" 

Sighing, Davey leans into Jack's palm. "Specs was just saying he was surprised you were okay with the cat considering everything you've been going through with your dad and all. And it made me realize you're already dealing with all this stuff, and I know you're hurting, and then I bring this cat home without even thinking about how that'd make you feel." 

Jack makes a soft, shushing noise, and pulls Davey back into his arms. "It's okay, Dave, I know ya didn't mean nothin' by it."

"But I could've done something better. I could've found someone else to take her instead of just bringing her home. Or I bet if I asked the shelter, they'd know someone who could foster. I just didn't - I mean, after everything with your dad, and he makes you feel bad about being felisian, and I didn't even think about that," Davey moans.

"Fuck my dad," Jack interjects, flicking his ears back sharply. "Fuck whatever he said 'bout bein' like a cat. I don't give a fuck no more. I's a felisian, and if that means I look a bit cat, whateva. S'long as ya still love me, don't give a fuck 'bout the rest."

Davey pulls back enough to meet Jack's eyes. "Of course I do."

"Then I'm okay," Jack says determinedly. He ducks in to kiss the quiver off Davey's lips and feels his boyfriend melt into the contact. "You gonna be okay, babe?" Davey nods from where he's promptly burrowed his face into the curve of Jack's collarbones. This part of a panic attack is familiar to Jack, and he mercifully knows how to deal with this part. "I'm tired, my class was borin' as hell today. Wanna take a nap 'til you gotta work?" 

When Davey nods again, Jack wraps an arm around his waist and helps him to his feet. They cross the apartment to curl up on the bed. Once they're laying down, Jack rolls over and hangs his hand down over the edge of the mattress. "C'mere, demon fluff," he coaxes, wriggling is fingers. Lucy doesn't hesitate to crawl out from under the bed, letting Jack lift her up onto the blanket. 

Davey is lying on his side, and Jack molds himself around Davey's spine as he drops the black kitten into the arc of Davey's stomach. "Naptime for you too, furball," Jack says as he makes himself comfortable. "No sprintin' around like a crazy and wakin' me up."

Relaxing back into Jack's chest, Davey reaches down and scratches Lucy's head. "You're sure you're okay with her?" Davey asks tentatively. 

"Promise," Jack says. He presses a kiss to the back of Davey's neck and drapes his tail over their tangled legs. "I know I give her lotsa shit, but the crazy puff's grown on me." To emphasize his point, Jack pets his knuckles down the kitten's back gently. Lucy flops onto her side and purrs under the attention. 

Taking a breath, Jack nuzzles Davey's shoulder. "I'll be honest, did weird me out for a bit. My head's been messed up, and then I look at her, and I see all these cat things that I do but try ta' pretend I don't-" He flicks his ears and then exhales. "So yeah, I didn't wanna keep her at first."

"Did you just say we could 'cause you knew I wanted her?" asks Davey, biting his lip.

"I love ya, babe, but if I really didn't want her, you'd know," Jack replies, smirking against Davey's shoulder. "We both know I'm a drama queen, remember?" Davey huffs a soft giggle. "And I still prefer dogs - and we're still definitely gettin' a dog when we move somewhere bigger - but the little weirdo is funny." He flicks the tip of Lucy's ear and laughs when he rolls over and flails her front paws wildly, trying to grab the offending fingers. 

Davey exhales slowly and scritches the kitten's chest to calm her back down. "And you're sure you're okay?" he asks nervously. "I just - I know this year's been hard, and I know you're dealing with it and all, but if having her is going to make it harder then-"

The felisian shushes him, taking Davey's hand and threading their fingers together. "I'm okay, Dave. I mean it." He thumps his tail as he considers how to frame his thoughts. "I dunno, I mean all this shit with the ol' man has sucked. Like, _a lot_. But I think it's sorta been good for me too, ya know? Like closure or some shit like that. 'Cause I mean it when I says I don't care what he thinks 'bout me no more." 

"Yeah?" Davey asks, and he traces his thumb over Jack's. 

"Fo'sure," Jack agrees, "'cause it got me thinkin', I got all these folks in my life now that love me, like _for real_ love me, and they don't give a fuck if I's a bit cat. So why should I care if the ol' man don't like me? He never loved me all the way like Ma and my siblin's and you do. So I got lotsa folks love me, and one angry bastard that don't. Sounds like pretty good odds, ya know?" 

Davey shudders and makes a soft, broken noise that immediately puts Jack on the alert. The felisian pushes up onto an elbow so he can see Davey's face better. His boyfriend glances up, and although his eyes are still damp, he offers a shaky smile. "You're incredible," Davey says, squeezing Jack's hand tightly. "I just - I dunno how you're so strong. Everything, all of this, and you just keep getting stronger." 

Jack chuckles, ducking down to nuzzle Davey's shoulder to hide the fact he's blushing. "Think my psych textbooks called it a step to self-acceptance, but that's lots wordier," he teases. Davey chuffs a small laugh. Jack smiles and bumps his nose against Davey's cheek. "Ya know it's 'cause you, right?" he admits, gentler. "I dunno if I could'a survived all this without you." 

"You could've," Davey says decisively. He shifts onto his back, and his free hand cradles Jack's jaw tenderly. "I don't doubt that at all."

The felisian isn't so sure about that; he thinks about the person he was just over a year ago, the guy he was before he met Davey, and he's not sure that guy would've handled it so well. Sure, a year's a long time, and there's no saying Jack wouldn't have matured even without Davey in his life. And of course, he still would've had his family supporting him. But the future social worker in his brain can objectively agree; Jack's made more progress in accepting his felisianism in the last year than in several years prior combined. 

There's really no point arguing it, though, so Jack just grins and ducks in to kiss his boyfriend. Davey hums and pulls him closer, and the felisian can feel the tension bleeding out of his lanky frame. Then a fluffy head butts against Davey's cheek, and the kiss dissolves into a laugh. 

"You're so needy," Davey says to Lucy, glancing sideways at the kitten. 

"Hey, youse gonna have to learn to share," Jack says. "You can steal all his attention when I ain't here, but I'm needy too. So stop interruptin' my cuddles." The felisian pushes the kitten just hard enough that she flops over sideways and then grins as he hastily reclaims Davey's lips. Lucy retaliates by jumping up and planting her front paws in Jack's cheek. 

"Alright, c'mon you," Davey says, chuckling. He scoops Lucy up and sets her down on the blankets beside his ribs, hand splayed over her back to keep her still. 

Jack sneaks one more kiss before he lays down, tucking his head into the curve of Davey's shoulder. "M'kay, naptime," he declares, curling around his boyfriend's side in his usual spot. Davey wraps his arm more securely around Jack's shoulders and combs his fingers through the hair on the back of his skull. "And Dave?" Jack says softly. "Next time somethin' like this happens, tell me. No more this disappearin' and ignorin' my calls, 'kay?"

If Jack wasn't plastered against Davey's body, he's not sure he would've caught the flinch. "I'm sorry. I just - I thought you would be mad at me." 

"Yeah, and that's exactly why you're s'posed to talk to me," Jack counters. "That way maybe we can clear it up 'fore you get all panicky. And if we can't, you ain't s'posed to be alone when ya get like that. I gotta know these things, you gotta talk to me." 

"I don't - I'm fine, Jack," Davey says furtively. "I was just worried about you. It's not gonna happen again." 

Jack sighs, recognizing that this argument isn't going to go anywhere right now. There's no point pushing it when Davey is still emotional, it'll just steer him back toward a panic attack. "Just promise me, babe. If it ever does happen, wouldja least text me or call or somethin'? So I don't gotta worry 'bout you. Got scared when Specs told me you were upset, and then you weren't answerin' anyone. So _promise_ you'll let me know if you start gettin' upset like that." 

The tension is bunching Davey's shoulders, but he starts running his fingers through Jack's hair again. "Okay, promise. _If_ it happens, I'll call you." 

"M'kay, that's all I's askin'," the felisian says, burrowing into Davey's side. "Get some sleep, babe, ya gotta work in a couple hours. Don't wanna fall asleep in someone's gyros." Davey snorts, tweaking the tuft of white hairs at the tip of Jack's ear playfully so the felisian flutters them in response, but he finally relaxes. "Love you, Dave."

"Love you too," Davey responds, kneading the base of Jack's ear in that spot that always turns his bones to putty. Jack hums and doesn't fight back the soft purr that swells in his ribs. 

Lucy crawls up Davey's chest and tucks herself into the crease between Davey's stomach and Jack's. The felisian chuckles and scratches her neck briefly before draping his arm over Davey's chest again. "Yeah, love you too, furball."

**Author's Note:**

> Lucy the cat is actually based on a real cat my family rescued. The poor thing was pretty damaged from almost freezing to death, but she survived. And yes, her name was Lucy, short for Lucifer. She was a little psychotic, but she was a good little defective klepto cat.


End file.
